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Greatest Hits

by Forget This

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    The limited edition first pressing of Greatest Hits comes with a 6 panel insert full of photos, lyrics, and info about the making of the album.

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I’m so tired, I’ve got a calendar it hangs me from my neck. I’m built to last - I’m perforated along every edge. I wanted you to be my Joan of Arc. I’d be the burning cross. We could burn down the whole town tonight, they’d still never write a book about us. You were a funeral, I bit my tongue as they recited Robert Frost. It was a party when you left; you came back drunk I came back lost. New Paltz can keep hid the graveyard where we almost slept, and the motel 87 where we did - I payed the bill you payed the bed. Now I don’t know what any of this really means, as I count the ghost bikes on Merrick road as the cops all reconvene. Oh what I’d pay for some confidence in a re-election sign. Oh what I’d pay for some confidence in my ability to drive home tonight. This motorcade will leave us both counting the shots alone in bed, and weighing all the dudes behind the curtains tugging on the threads. Here’s to every death squad and their ability to sleep. This one’s for the phone call - and I guess - the army that you couldn’t keep - and your sad, sad little defeat.
Counting cars from inside of a car. Counting the blades from in the backyard. She cut the hedge back home in the suburbs. Still couldn’t see anything. Calling up old friends. Calling up regrets. Calling up favors. Calling up dealers. Counting your calls Counting the falls. Counting yr heartbeats in the back of stall. 24, still feels like 19 on some nights. When the vacuum of careerists opens up its eyes, and your bedroom is now an apartment on sunrise, “but no one cares what you spill on the carpet “ she sighed, as she rolled her eyes. Boys will fall around this town. Girls will fall around this town. Moms will fall around this town. Dads will fall around this town. We all fall around town.
I’m not home. I’m hanging in the station parking lot again. I’m not cold. My teeth just chatter when I drink when I’m alone. I’m not lonely. I just like to hear the TV talk at night. I’m not scared. I just wanted to check to see if you were there. It’s not my home. A hurricane washed the town away again. These aren’t my clothes. The Walmart bought them from a kid in Vietnam. It’s not my trash that’s blowing in your face every time a train goes past. It’s not my cash. It just passes through my hands every now and again. What do you believe? Do you believe in sitting 3 feet away from me. We could take my car, I’ve got some gas it will get us kind of far. Well don’t you know that I don’t really want to be alone? Well don’t you know that I don’t really want to see you on my phone? When I’m alone...don’t you know?
Still Alive 03:21
Heart was running red lights. Thought you died. Big’re still alive. Same coward’s teeth kissing fading keys. Same bitter web and voyeur screens. They will paint your weeks so dim and bleak, but you’ll still babble on - some human urge to speak - In the stupid cell, where you’ve painted hell along the check receipts of your cubicle. Now cash it flows in your veins like fire, and the boxes stack along your desires; women’s clothes, microphones, amphetamines, and a hidden home, but another man who holds the hill, took a wrench and smahsed the pipes that fill your faucets deep. Now they all have dried in this desert where you can’t afford to cry. Now you’ll throw a punch. They’ll throw you out. Can’t sing their songs. Can’t kiss their mouths. Can’t eat their food, drive their cars, drink their water, breath their smoke. Can’t kiss the mirror without throwing up. Can’t lift a finger without growing up; singing to old friends, into pale dead eyes. Where’s the basement where you’re still alive?
Funeral #1 02:44
The endless hum of long beach road shakes all sense of hope from my bones. This dead horse town will be nothing, when these clever kids critique it. So I’m making for the mountains. I’m sick of all these tepid humans. Most certainly, myself included. I can’t live with what I was born. Darkness stalks this town. I felt the knife climb down. The cross, it breaks my neck in the mirror. No one’s crossing the Husdon River. My god my father, can you bring St. Joan down from the fire, where an open mouth did kill her, and send me back to the asylum for ever believing in a better tomorrow? oh doctor oh doctor! I’m standing in line at the pharmacy window. I’m waiting for my man, but I won’t hold my breath, because the fire that got you is bound to burn me too. No, I won’t hold my breath because the army that killed you, they’re going to crucify me too.
Forget This 04:04
When we can no longer speak. When apathy has choked out everything. We’ll sink into the scene, behind those we’d no longer wish to meet. Cause’ we have placed heavy trailers on our tongues, and we have tied all the gas lines to our hands. Where wheels can’t kill our awful fear of debt. So we swallow drinks, until the drinks decide to head off to sleep. And we can spin now, all the cuts we’ll never remember. We can dream now - the b-sides off like sheep at slaughter. Inside the cage of a frame, the smiles and frowns all blur to form one contorted face. They were singing, “under the dirty ground you’ll find relief from all this weight of light and sound!” They were signing, “under the dirty ground,you’ll find exactly what your father’s father’s father found!” Well...there will be no more crying now. Just cash to fill our filthy mouths. Yeah, there will be no more crying now. Just pills to shut our worried little mouths.
Walk On 05:37
Then - after the bombs did fall, we walked on down to the western wall. We saw the web of machines. Winston was wrong about everything. They were right. 2+2 is 5 - and the gates where we’d all wait in line - there was nothing on the other side but blood and priests - alright. We wrote little poems on the bathroom walls. We crossed our hearts on mirrors in stalls. We never found a way out of the town. The volume fell and the amps they drowned. oh hold on! Hold on tight! Another manic fit you can make it alright! So hold on! Close your eyes! Brace yourself for the coming decline! We slammed into those venue walls. We drank so loud the cops were called. It was the end, and now we’re going home. To another state, to another state of mind. Gonna find little pieces. Gonna write on napkins, another thesis. Pathetic and bloated. I’ll take my time. We’re only gonna die, alright. We fell in love, I knew it had to end. Now here I am in Oceanside again. It was the last song we would ever sing. Now joan is dead, but we made it alright. In turn, eternally, we’re gonna sing on and on. We’re gonna walk on by alright. You’re gonna walk on by. I’m gonna walk on by.
The Promise 03:40
Take me out to the edge of town and break the darkness over my head like a vase. If I pass out, if it kills me - I didn’t feel a thing. Take me out to the edge of town and break the last summer like a branch against my back. If I forget, if it don’t want it back - it never happened, and that’s that. In the suburbs of western connecticut, you held your problems like a college pre-requisite. If I don’t come back, if you never see me again, we don’t even have a picture. live and you learn.


Greatest Hits was self-recorded by Ellie K in a Long Island garage between October of 2013 and March 2014.


released October 19, 2014

Ellie K - Guitars, Harmonica, Vocals, Keys, Accordion, Bass, Glockenspiel.
Steve Battline - Drums
Michael Weiss - Bass on funeral #1

Mastered by Paul Gold at Salt Mastering


all rights reserved



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